GG's Summer 2019 Story Challenge
by GalaxieGurl
Summary: Once again, we writers will attempt to entertain each other and our readers with summer tales of Booth and Bones. We have various topics, prompts & formats from which to choose. In each of my chapters, a minor character from one or more episodes will reappear. The list of choices evoked a wide range of memories, as you will see.
1. Chapter 1

Jimmy

It had been a scorchingly humid week in D.C. and Booth was wishing the week would hurry along so he and Brennan could take a breather from their caseload and relax with their kids in the backyard pool. Feeling twitchy, he'd texted his wife he was heading to a GA meeting on his way home just for safety's sake.

He pulled into the spacious parking lot, locked his truck and headed toward the stately tree-shaded brick building. He walked into the vestibule of St. Andrew's Episcopal Church, turned right, and headed down a creaky wooden stairway. A cacophony of voices drifted down the basement hallway as he passed three Sunday School classrooms and the choir's practice music room; walking toward a meeting room that stretched across the width of the building.

Gavin Henderson, his sponsor, was measuring ground Folgers into a well-used crowd-sized Poly-Perk coffee maker. The older man grinned at him and extended his hand.  
"Hey, Booth, good to see you. How's the family? Is little Hank taking over the lawn-mowing for you yet?"

"Not quite, Gav," Booth chuckled, reaching for a Styrofoam cup as he shook Gavin's hand. "Looks like a pretty good crowd tonight, huh?"

"Yeah, especially for the middle of June. Lotta folks are out of town on vacation the next coupla months."

"Well, it doesn't matter how many people show up, Gavin. You always have some very helpful insights to share, and if it's only the two of us sometime, we'll get just as much benefit out of the meeting as a whole roomful of participants! Without your support, I wouldn't be where I am today; married to Bones, with two great kids and a meaningful career!"

"You've helped me too, Booth; I can't fall off the wagon myself when I'm watchin' out for you, Bud."

Gavin filled a styrofoam cup for himself, stepped to the wobbly podium and addressed the chattering group.

"Folks, if you'll grab a seat and listen up a minute, we'll get things started so we're not here all night. I know some of y'all got kiddos and homework and home stuff to get done before you can hit the hay."

He took off his ball cap, waited for the circle of listeners to rise to their feet, and intoned the first line of the group's well-known prayer, "God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,"

His attentive audience chimed in to finish the next two lines before taking their seats once again. Then Gavin looked around and smiled at a few people seated in the outer ring of chairs.

"Do we have any newcomers who'd like to introduce themselves?"

A tall man put his hands on his knees, leaned forward slightly and took a deep breath. Hesitating for just a moment, he stood up, cleared his throat, and plunged ahead before he lost his nerve.

"My name is Jimmy Flanagan. I'm a gambler but I'm trying to stop. I'm hoping these meetings can help me as much as my cousin Harold says they helped him in Scranton. He hasn't gambled in six months, which is sayin' something since he lost the rent money for three months straight before that."

Booth glanced sideways at the speaker, and stifled a double-take. His bookie's enforcer was addressing the group. _Who'd have ever thought that Jimmy the Knife would show up at Gamblers' Anonymous? _he thought to himself._ But everybody's gotta start some place, and we've all been there, standing in his shoes, scared to death to open up. Gotta hand it to the guy…._

And he turned his attention to the story unfolding as Jimmy continued to talk.

"I'm even worse than a gambler; I collect debts for my boss, who's a bookie in Anacostia. He doesn't gamble, but I do; have for years, and collecting money owed to him is how I've been tryin' to pay off my debt with him. Been tryin' to work up the nerve to quit my job with him, but I don't have any other prospects, and I've gotta pay my child support and eat, ya' know?"

Seemingly talked out, Jimmy fell silent and sat back down.

Gavin gave him an encouraging nod, and the group broke into applause.

"You've taken the first step, man; admitting you've got a problem, just like every other person in this room. If you're willing to work the steps of this program, you'll find plenty of understanding and empathy from this group. Not sympathy, mind you; but support and help whenever you need it to overcome the urges you feel."

"No matter what time it is, day or night. You can call one of us; a specific sponsor when you find someone you're comfortable with. There will always be someone to lend an ear when you need it, share a cup of coffee, sit with you awhile as you regain control."

"It ain't easy, but you can make it, if you try. All of us have slipped a time or two, or many times, but we just keep pluggin' and helping each other as best we can. We're proud to make your acquaintance, Jimmy. Welcome to our group."

"Anyone else like to speak? Unburden their heart? No need to be bashful or embarrassed; you're among friends here."

Another man and one woman spoke up after Jimmy. Gavin read a three-minute excerpt from the GA Group Handbook Guide Booklet, and then opened the floor for discussion. A few members offered ideas, related their experiences from the previous week, admitting some slip-ups as well as small victories.

Glancing at the wall clock, Gavin closed the meeting, reminding everyone to return next week. He mentioned the stack of papers on a small table near the door; a printed list of nearby meetings, one occurring each evening, open to anyone needing reinforcement or camaraderie.

The group rose to their feet and began folding and stacking the metal chairs they had occupied.

Booth waited until the people thinned out a bit, filling his coffee cup halfway as Gavin spoke privately with Jimmy Flanagan. Then he stepped toward the newcomer and introduced himself.

"I know who you are, Booth. You're part of the reason I'm here. Mickey told me eight months ago you'd sworn off gambling and he hasn't heard from you since. I figured if you could do it, I could at least try."

"That's the hardest part; admitting you've got a problem. Believe me! I sat in these meetings for four months, going through the motions, before I finally broke down and admitted to myself and this group that I hadn't really been trying. Not like I shoulda' been, to get my wife and child back. Once I did, I've been a lot more successful than trying to fool myself and everyone else."

Well, I gotta say, Booth, you're a lucky man. That's one strong woman you're married to! I hope my Astrid will stick with me a little longer while I work through my pride, get myself clean again," Jimmy declared.

You're not kidding, Flanagan. Bones, my wife, she's amazing; one of a kind. I don't deserve her, but I strive to, every single day. I can't afford to lose her or my kids ever again. Gavin saved me, and he can save you. Or whoever you're comfortable talkin' to. Work the system, step by step, man. It works. It has saved me. But the struggle's never over. I have to stay vigilant every single day. I'm livin' proof it works, if you put in the effort. See you next week."

"Thanks, Booth, I will. Glad I happened to pick the meeting you were at tonight. Hearing your story gives me hope this'll work."

The pair shook hands, walked upstairs, and headed to their cars. As Booth climbed into his SUV, he muttered to himself, "Wait'll I get home! Bones is never gonna believe this!"


	2. Chapter 2

A Letter for Brennan

Brennan pulled into the driveway and smiled as her Toyota Prius 'Intellicar" software raised the garage door, triggering little Hank's excited chatter. Her younger son was just as fascinated by his mother's hands-free car as Parker had been some years earlier. Despite Booth's repeated offers to buy her a new car, she had retained her royal blue 2004 Kammback sedan for over a decade. It was in mint condition, her mechanic pampered it like his own child, and she saw no reason to discard a perfectly functioning automobile for a newer model. Similarly, she had gently declined her husband's attempts to work on the car. A nationally-renowned expert, Tom Hudkins was regularly consulted by Toyota on improvements they were considering, and Brennan felt lucky to remain one of his first auto maintenance clients.

Once the pair were out of the car, Brennan took Hank's hand as he pulled her down the driveway in their daily ritual. He loved being lifted up to open the mailbox and peer inside before reaching in to extract the mail. More often than not, his chubby hands only succeeded in grabbing the first few envelopes and sliding the rest forward to cascade onto the ground. But he cheerfully squatted to collect what had fallen, handing each piece to his mother, one at a time, with great ceremony. Knowing that her younger self would never have summoned the patience to wait through a pre-schooler's ritual, Brennan now indulged her child; relishing the simple pleasure of observing Hank's increasing motor skills. She grinned to herself at how much Seeley Booth had changed her since they met.

Once the mail was all in hand, mother and son walked back up the front walk, ascended the porch and entered their home. Hank dutifully placed his Spider Man backpack in the front hall, and ran to change his clothes before clamoring for a snack. Brennan fanned through the envelopes and spotted a fat one addressed to her, "Temperance Brennan." Recognizing the return address logo "Caine Investigations" she wondered why Jesse Caine would be contacting her.

After fixing carrot sticks and milk for Hank, she sliced open the envelope and began to read the very long letter inside. Caine was writing to tell her he'd finally unraveled the mystery of his father Max's demise. The man did not have a juxtacortical chondroma, just as Brennan had assured him. Because he and his 'honey' Karen Anderson had been at serious odds; not getting along well by any stretch of imagination, Max had decided to make a clean break after their most recent horrendous argument. Instead of meeting her at the North Star Grill, Max had left behind his Virginia Beach cottage, heading south to stay with his oldest friend Harry, an Army buddy and clear his head.

Brennan paused reading and refilled Hank's milk cup. She pulled a lasagna from the refrigerator and slid it into the oven. Pouring herself a glass of iced tea, she returned to Jesse's letter.

Harry Fulton owned a tiny cabin near Bad Branch Falls in Letcher County, Kentucky. His father had published the newspaper for Whitesburg, the nearest coal mining town. Returning after Vietnam, Harry found peace in its rocky solitude. He continued printing the newspaper after his father's death and spent his leisure time painting the scenes of his childhood. After years so lean the hamlet's pawn shops closed, Whitesburg had morphed itself into an Appalachian arts community, and begun to revive. Harry joined the group of artisans which included several longtime friends as well as newcomers to the area; transplants who appreciated the respite from urban noise and congestion.

After three weeks with Harry, Max Caine had decided to stay in Whitesburg. Offering his financial expertise and analytic skills to the State of Kentucky to improve Department of Fish and Wildlife Resources funding, he audited their finances, revised their game permit/penalties system, improved their bond investment earnings, and upgraded their antiquated computer systems. Max was content and productive for the next three years, often hiking, camping and fishing with Harry on weekends.

Due to all the vigorous outdoor activities and exercise he relished, Max attributed his gradual weight loss to getting back in shape; a lagniappe of his increasing muscle mass. Absorbed in his work, he often skipped meals and ate on the run. He complained to Harry that his back was hurting after their fishing expedition on Pine Mountain.

"Toldja you were casting that new fishing rod too zealously, Buddy," his friend replied the following Saturday morning as the pair lingered over breakfast and coffee at the Courthouse Café.

Over the next few months, Max's back flared up occasionally, causing him discomfort that a heating pad generally cured. By the time he and Harry went deer hunting at Thanksgiving, he was griping again to his longtime friend.

"Ya know, Max, maybe you oughta see a doctor about your back. It's been givin' you fits for several months now," Harry observed. "Dr. Stookey has done right by me, and he took care of my dad. Why'oncha go have him check you out next week?"

Max muttered that there was nothing wrong with his health, but it had been awhile since he'd seen a physician, so he agreed to make an appointment with Dr. Stookey. Two weeks later, he sat impatiently on a narrow padded table in the chilly exam room waiting on the blood test results the doctor had called him in to discuss.

"Mr. Caine, I'm sorry to keep you waiting; babies in this town are notorious for messing up my exam schedules. Mrs. Foster's labor is false for now, at least. These blood tests show that your amylase and lipase levels are quite elevated. I don't want to alarm you, but I think it's prudent to have things checked out a little further. Dr. Henderson over in Hazard is very well-versed in oncology diagnosis. We went to med school together, and he treated my uncle a few years back. I've forwarded your test results to him and I'd like you to see him this Friday. It may be nothing, but safer is better than sorry."

"Oncology? This Friday? Why so soon? Whadda'ya think's wrong with me?" Max Caine sputtered.

"I'm concerned about your pancreas, Mr. Caine. Dr. Henderson will be able to explain things more thoroughly once he's examined you."

Brennan sighed at the length and content of Jesse's thick letter. She peered in the oven at the gently bubbling lasagna, put some green beans in the microwave, and pulled a bag of brown 'n' serve whole wheat rolls from the refrigerator. Walking to the family room, she changed the channel for Hank and continued to read.

Jesse wrote that Dr. Henderson's findings had been dire. A physical exam was followed by CT and PET scans, an MRI, and a fine needle aspiration biopsy. Upon hearing that his pancreas cancer was inoperable Stage 4, Max decided to forego a grueling course of chemo and radiation treatment that would sap vitality from his remaining months. He agreed to palliative medications to ease coming pain, but otherwise intended to expend what energy he had to relish life and breath while he could.

Saddened to hear such a disheartening diagnosis, Harry Fulton swore to make his friend's shortened future exuberant and memorable. After Max's demise, he'd found Jesse's name among bank box papers and contacted the young man to convey the sad news.

Brennan noticed a slightly irregular spot on the page in her hand. She examined it more closely and sighed. The next sentence confirmed her analysis of its cause.

"It was very tough hearing that my father had passed away, Dr. Brennan. I never got the chance to tell him how much I benefitted from his tough love treatment. When he cut me off at NYU, I had to quit screwin' around, grow up and support myself. I really let my dad down, wasting his hard-earned money. I wish I'd been able to say thanks. His life lessons were hard to accept, but he made me a man. I angrily resented it then but I appreciate it now."

"On the other hand, I finally know what happened to him. He spent his last years in a place he loved, with a friend he was close to, like a brother. I drove down to Whitesburg to meet Mr. Fulton a few months ago, and understand why Dad went there. It's a beautiful area, close to solitude and gorgeous country. An easy place to escape the stress of Wall Street and a moody, gritchy, spoiled, spendthrift girl friend. Once he was ill, the end came quickly. He had good medical care and strong friendships to support him."

"I'm sorry I bugged you and forced my way into your investigation with Agent Booth back when that plane crashed on the Reston National Golf Course, but I was desperate to find my father. I am finally at peace knowing where he is, and hope that you eventually learn the whereabouts of your parents as well. The truth might make you sad as it did me, but it's better than not knowing."

"Thank you for the time, effort, listening, and attention you gave me back then. Sincerely, Jesse Caine."

Brennan took a deep breath, folded the papers and placed them back into the envelope. No wonder a tear had splotched Jesse's final page. She noticed a website within the printed logo of Caine Investigations, and decided to look it up after dinner. She was sure she would find an email address, and resolved to answer his inquiry. She felt no need to expound on the details, but would let him know that she too had learned the truth about her parents.

"_Plus, you're one of us."_

"_One of us?"_

"_People whose loved ones have simply vanished. In your case, both parents."_

He had been right. She was one of _them._

Thanks to Booth, however, she knew what happened, had answers and closure. Her husband and partner would be as surprised and gratified as she by this letter.

**A/N: This last quote of Jesse's is courtesy of Springfield! Springfield TV scripts After 6 attempts to properly copy the website to avoid plagiarism, I have found that it doesn't save here in its complete form. The script of Season 1 Episode 14 of Bones is available to view there. This is all of the web address this system seems willing to save. Kindly do not cite me for violating copyright, as I have tried to cite this source accurately. If anyone can instruct me on what I'm doing wrong, I'm all ears. . /view_episode_ ?tv-show=bones&episode=s01e14**


	3. Chapter 3

A Chance Holiday Encounter

Since July 4th fell on a Friday this year, Parker and Meredith were coming to DC for a long Independence Day weekend, arriving on Thursday morning and departing Tuesday after lunch. Booth and Brennan planned a number of activities to occupy their family.

They scheduled a visit to Mount Vernon for Monday and purchased tickets for the official tour to support the home's conservations work. But their tour would be expanded especially for the anthropologist. Marcia Stockon, the head curator who had known her since graduate school, invited Temperance and her family to see the not only the mansion but also Mount Vernon's ongoing 'dig', preservative excavation of earlier kitchen gardens, barns, servant quarters, and out-buildings dating from Washington's lifetime and before. Booth knew his wife and Parker were beyond excited about this opportunity.

To avoid the holiday traffic, Brennan booked a unique two- bedroom two-bathroom basement suite in a stately 1908 H Street residence. She was fascinated by the previous colorful name for its neighborhood, Swampoodle, and resolved to research its origins. Accommodating seven guests, it gave easy access to the DC Metro Line transit system. Their family could watch the National Mall fireworks and enjoy the "Capital Fourth" music concert free of honking, parking tolls, and auto exhaust.

They left the three story brick home right after a hearty lunch and Hank's rest. Booth had tried to induce his youngest child to take a nap by stretching out on the king-sized bed alongside the boy (and promptly dozing off) but Hank was a) too excited and b) much too old for naps. He was 6 years old, he reminded his drowsy dad. The best he could oblige was looking at his dinosaur books.

By 2 p.m. the family was headed down the street toward the Metro Center Station, everyone talking at once. Grateful that Agent Harris had explained in detail the recent changes to its complex transfer system, Booth herded his clan into the correct car. Brennan's advance purchase of metro cards had saved them waiting in line.

Each adult carried snacks in a backpack. Brennan had brought along lightweight Vapur water pouches for each person, knowing that they could be easily refilled at the unique Hydration Stations the company had installed around D.C. They were one of her favorite recyclable discoveries.

After delivering a keynote address at UCLA in 2009, she had met Brent Reinke at an environmental innovator symposium and supported his eco-responsible research on reusable water bottles ever since. Hank's Tiger Cub pack had sold the 300 ml and 0.5 l Anti-Bottles as a Christmas fundraiser for camping activities, and his mother had placed a sizeable order for stocking stuffers.

Having discarded the idea of lawn chairs since they were afoot, Booth packed a waterproof tarp and several lightweight bamboo fabric blankets to sit on. Knowing his back would protest the following morning, Brennan brought along an ultra-light low-profile folding aluminum/mesh camp chair for her husband. Weighing only 2.1 pounds, it was well worth including in their gear and listening to him fuss that he didn't need coddling.

The group walked toward the National Mall, milling with throngs of happy people all seemingly chattering at once. Listening to the wide variety of American accents, Brennan became aware of one speaker who sounded very familiar. She thought she recognized a uniquely sonorous voice behind her which Zach had once described as unusually convincing. A smile spread across her face and she whirled around to confirm its source. Confused by the sudden halt, the puzzled family stopped too. Then Booth began to grin as well, overhearing the deep slow rich African-American tones he'd heard often when first working with the Jeffersonian crew. Amid the clumps of families seeking a spot to sit down, a tall broad-shouldered man with close-cropped hair and a neatly trimmed beard was talking to an attractive woman and two identical young ladies. Booth was suddenly taken back to a Christmas Eve spent in the lab, woozy from the influence of a precautionary inoculation, when he'd shared family pictures with the Jeffersonian's former director.

"Dr. Goodman," he said extending his hand.

Simultaneously, Brennan spoke up. "Daniel! It's been so long!"

"Oh my goodness, Temperance Brennan!" her colleague exclaimed. "Agent Booth! How in the world are you two? Still working together here in DC to stop all the criminals?"

Dr. Goodman's wife and daughters were smiling, though puzzled by the impromptu reunion. Parker glanced over, then looked again at the tall dark man speaking with his dad and Bones. _Hmmm, it had been a very long time, but the fellow did seem a little familiar, _he thought to himself.

"My heavens, where are my manners? Dr. Brennan, Agent Booth, this is my wife Ophelia and my daughters Kayla and Alexis. Honey, girls, these are people I worked with at the Jeffersonian."

"Your daughters have grown as much as my son since that strange Christmas Eve night at the lab, Dr. Goodman. They are both lovely," Booth commented.

"Ah, yes, Parker! I remember…he's three times taller than he was back then!" Daniel Goodman observed. "And who are these other fine looking young people?" he asked.

"Our daughter Christine, son Hank, and Parker's wife Meredith, " Brennan replied.

"Ah, that's right! I heard you got married. What a beautiful family you have-"

"I'm not beautiful," Hank protested. "I'm han'som."

"Right you are, young man," Dr. Goodman laughed, extending his hand to shake Hank's. "My apologies!"

Hank stood up as tall as he could, and squeezed back tightly."

"You've got a good firm grip there, Son," Daniel Goodman complimented the little boy.

The two families continued walking across the lush grass of the Mall.

"We haven't heard anything from you in years, Daniel. Where have you been?" Brennan asked.

"A couple of years after I left the Jeffersonian, I was offered a job teaching at Cairo University on a five-year travelling fellowship, and had the chance to study some of the gravesites, pyramids, and other archaeological sites in Egypt. Then we moved to London, where I worked at the British Museum for six years. Part of our work was identifying exhibits containing artifacts which should be returned to their countries of origin."

"The British collected a huge number of invaluable items during their colonial reign and some of their protectorates had expressed a desire to repatriate pieces of their national heritage and history. The British acknowledged the need for this to occur, and the process has been surprisingly amicable. Agreements have been reached to return some things, share other artifacts, leave some in the UK on loan, and bring further displays to England on a rotating basis, which had never been seen or studied in Europe," Goodman explained.

"Similar efforts have been made in France, Holland, Spain, and Portugal. Surprisingly, Germany never participated in the age of exploration to the extent that their neighbors did," he added. "However, they had a similar need for repatriating art treasures and artifacts after World War II, as you are aware, Temperance."

"We returned to the states in 2012 to assist the U.S. government in tracing and identifying stolen pieces of art, verifying the provenance of the ones we found, and establishing the validity of claims Holocaust survivors have filed. One of these cases has a direct link to the Harry Potter world my girls are so in love with, " Daniel Goodman continued.

"Like Leonie Meyer who was adopted by the couple who owned Camille Pissarro's 1886 painting "Shepherdess Bringing in the Sheep". Stolen from a vault in France by Nazis, this masterpiece was purchased by Clara Weitzenhoffer, a wealthy Oklahoman who loved impressionist art. Her son Max sits on the University of Oklahoma Board of Regents and donated it to the college after she died in 2000. His family has endowed their School of Fine Arts in Norman to the point that it bears their name. At the time of his donation he was completely unaware of its particular significance or value," Daniel Goodman continued.

"In 2009, an Indianapolis museum curator noticed a discrepancy in the painting's ownership records, and the Holocaust Art Restitution Project heard of this and wrote an article about it, which Leonie Meyer's son saw. In 2012, The family requested that OU return the painting, and negotiations were completed in 2016," the archaeologist recounted.

"I helped investigate the provenance and chain of custody for this painting. My professional work rarely has any relevance to my home life or family, but imagine my surprise when I learned that this particular case has a direct link to the Harry Potter world my girls are so in love with. It turns out that Max Weitzenhoffer is a producer and theater owner in London and New York who was instrumental in bringing _Harry Potter and the Cursed Child_ to the stage," Daniel Goodman continued.

Booth and Brennan were fascinated by their former associate's story, but their troops were getting restless. Mrs. Goodman tugged on her husband's shoulder. "Sweetheart, if we don't get to the staging area, the girls will miss their instructions for the concert, "she said softly.

"Well, I guess I need to wind up this life story, Daniel chuckled. Long story short, Ophelia is a CRNA so she can work most anywhere. Our girls became multi-lingual; Egyptian, Italian, French, Spanish. They are both talented singers pursuing degrees in opera and music education."

Alexis and Kayla smiled indulgently at their father. "Mom's right, Dad. We've gotta get going. It was a pleasure meeting you all. Perhaps we can meet again sometime. We hope you'll enjoy the "Capital Fourth" concert. Their musical program is quite lively and stirring. Thank you for your service, Agent Booth. We've heard many stories about you and the Jeffersonian team from our father!"

Ophelia Goodman gave Brennan a light embrace, nodded to Booth, and echoed her daughters' sentiments, "We'd love to have you visit us in Arlington. Our home overlooks a section of the cemetery and you can see the Tomb of the Unknown Soldiers from our lawn. Those service members who guard it do such an excellent job. Their dedication is admirable. Happy Fourth of July to all of you. Meeting in person finally was really nice. That 10-minute chat behind glass on Christmas Eve all those years ago when our kids were little didn't offer much chance to get acquainted, did it?"

Brennan smiled warmly, and agreed, "That was one of the most memorable Christmas Eves I've observed. We'll enjoy your singing, and hope we can get together in the future. I'm so glad we ran into each other so we know what you've been up to, Dr. Goodman. It's a relief to know that you're safe. Not hearing anything for so long, Hodgins and I often wondered what had happened, but we were never able to learn anything."

Once they had parted company, Booth turned to Brennan and said, "We should get together with them, and invite Hodgins, Angela, and the others who knew Dr. Goodman back then. I'm sure he has some fascinating stories to share. And I _know _my wife can hold an audience spellbound with her adventures! It'll be a night to remember."

The Booth clan found a spot on the lawn, settled in to gorge on terribly unhealthy snacks to their hearts' desire, as the concert began. The Goodman twins were exceptional performers and their vocal range surprised Meredith who had sung during her school days. Then, as the sky darkened, they relished a noisy star-studded show of colorful bursts and deafening explosions; half expecting Hank to cringe and stopper his ears with pudgy fingers. But the youngest Booth leaned back against Parker's chest, indulgently shared by Meredith, and thoroughly enjoyed the fireworks extravaganza. They slipped away during the last fifteen minutes, eager to get a headstart back to the train. The final shells and explosives spread their colors so effectively, the family didn't miss any of the celebration. Happily for his father's back, Hank managed to stay on his feet the whole way back to their lodging.

As they slipped into bed, the couple assured each other all of their children would sleep in late the next morning. At least, Booth declared, they fervently hoped so.

A/N: This case involving art stolen by Nazis in World War II is authentic, as is the identity of the donor to OU and his connection to the first Harry Potter play. Dr. Goodman's part in the investigation arose, obviously, from my imagination. Hope everyone in the U.S. and service members or citizens abroad have a wonderful Fourth of July.


	4. Chapter 4

A Friend Revisits the Lab

Completely engrossed in revising the latest article in her series for _Anthropology Monthly_, Brennan sat at her computer, typing furiously to complete her thought before the phone interrupted her concentration again. She didn't notice the small group of people approaching her office doorway until the solidly-built broad-shouldered middle-aged man knocked softly. Startled, she turned toward the sound, a slight frown wrinkling her forehead.

"Ah, Dr. Brennan, I see you're busy. Sorry for the intrusion; we can come back another time," her visitor apologized.

Shaking her head slightly as she shifted her attention from the significance of southern European DNA traces in Philistine skeletons at Ashkelon to the present, Brennan stared hard at the speaker for a moment before breaking into a broad smile.

"Micah!" She rose from her chair and strode forward quickly to welcome her guest.

"It's been, what, five years since you left the Jeffersonian? I'm sorry I didn't respond immediately; seeing you again is a bit out of context, especially in the middle of the day!" Please, come in and sit down! What brings you back to the lab?"

The young woman behind Micah was completely puzzled by this remark, and grasped her son's hand a little tighter. "Dad, what does she mean?" she muttered under her breath.

"Please, come in and sit down! What brings you back to the lab?" Brennan continued, motioning to the comfortable sofa where Booth still napped occasionally.

"Ow! Momma, you're hurting my hand!"

Micah Leggatt chuckled. _Some things never change, _he thought as he stepped toward his old friend. He was more than a little surprised when she embraced him warmly. Returning her hug, he mused happily, _Wow, other things DO change! Temperance Brennan has changed._

"Sorry to catch you off guard. I probably should've called ahead, Dr. Brennan. But we were touring the dinosaur exhibit and Cam walked by. She suggested I stop by the lab to see you before we headed home."

Natalie Leggatt nudged her father-in-law. Micah gently shook her off and placed his arm around his grandson's shoulder as he continued. "My family is back in the states for a visit, and Fuller here is finally old enough to appreciate the wealth of knowledge his grandpa used to absorb around here. The last time they were state-side, he was only a toddler."

Brennan extended her hand to Natalie, who was still observing her guardedly. "Your father and I used to have interesting midnight conversations down in the Bone Room-" she said.

Micah laughed heartily. "That just makes my daughter more confused, Dr. Brennan. Let me make some introductions. Nat, honey, Dr. Brennan here is a forensic anthropologist who works with the FBI. She and her partner solve cold cases and bring people justice," he explained carefully, monitoring his words for the children present. "She used to work long hours analyzing specimens when I was the graveyard shift security guard here at the Jeffersonian. When I made my rounds, we'd discuss the Jeffersonian lectures I heard and what she was working on. Not many people to talk with in the middle of the night, you see—"

"You mean they catch bad guys?" Fuller interrupted excitedly. "Mom, how cool is that!?"

"Yes, Fuller, she and Agent Booth have caught lots of bad guys," Micah assured his grandson. "They're the best team around for such things," he added, winking at Brennan. Noticing the ring on her finger, he smiled even wider.

"My son and his wife do medical mission work in Africa. Blaine is an epidemiologist and Natalie here is a family/internal medicine specialist. A German sister from St. Joseph Mission Hospital in Peramiho requested help from Walter Rocca at Mayo Clinic twenty years ago during a virulent malaria outbreak when she noticed the disease presenting differently. Blaine was a resident doing clinical research at the time, and became interested in Tanzania's unique situation."

By this time, Natalie Leggatt had decided Dr. Brennan was 'good peoples' as her husband said; and warmed considerably to the scientist as her father-in-law talked to his old friend. Entering the conversation, she explained that Tanzania is one of the world's poorest nations, strongly in need of medical expertise, but has a stable government which welcomes international assistance.

"St. Joseph's Hospital, founded by nuns after World War I, is now an important regional hospital. I was a graduate lab assistant for Dr. Rocca when I met Blaine and we hit if off immediately. After working in New York for a decade, we both felt the pull to help people, and Tanzania seemed to be needing it most."

"We were unencumbered and decided to volunteer for a year, which became permanent once we were there," she paused and smiled down at her son.

"Fuller joined us six years ago, and Maggie here, a bit later," she added, kissing the pre-schooler in her arms on the top of her brown curls. The little girl wriggled to get down and her mom lowered her to the floor. "Don't you run off, Missy. Hold your Grammpa's hand, please."

Brennan smiled at Natalie. "There is a strong family resemblance between your children and their grandfather. They each have his prominent mental foramen and supraorbital ridge."

Natalie grinned back. Fuller was completely confused. "Dr. Brennan means you and Mags look like Grammpa, honey," his mother explained. "You have the same strong bone structure in your faces."

Fuller looked up at his grandfather proudly. "Grammpa came to see us last year and helped Akwilin build us a climbing frame! I can go clear to the top, but Maggie can't yet." He laughed out loud at his little sister's scowl. "I can too!" she objected. "Well, part way!"

Micah intervened, ruffling his grandson's hair. "Maggie-girl, you're my favorite little monkey. Fuller, quit heckling your sister. I know you're part orangutan, but she'll climb right past you before long, boy. Just wait and see!"

"What was your favorite dinosaur, Fuller?" Brennan asked. "My son Parker liked the brontosaurus best, and his little brother Hank says the triceratops is the coolest."

Fuller thought a moment. "I like the pterodactyl best because it can fly, even though it isn't really a dinosaur. I like the Stegosaurus because of its spiked tail and armored plates on its back. But T-Rex is cool, too. He could bite through almost anything!"

His mother gave Brennan a wry look. "We had to drag Fuller out of that exhibit. He's my dinosaur-holic!"

Brennan's cell phone chimed, and she pulled it from the pocket of her lab coat. "Booth wants to meet me for lunch. Please come along and be our guests at the diner, Micah," she urged. The children suddenly realized they were _very_ hungry, so Micah and Natalie agreed.

The visitors' arrival at the diner set off a series of mini-reunions. Joan, Booth's favorite waitress hugged Micah warmly. He explained to Natalie that he always stopped off for breakfast and coffee at the diner when his midnight shift ended.

"Once your mother was gone, I missed her cooking and Frankie's omelettes come damn close."

"_Dad!"_ Natalie cautioned.

"Oops, sorry. Fuller, that's not a good word to use, Kiddo."

"I know, Grammpa."

Frankie himself came out from the kitchen to greet the former Jeffersonian guard.

Once everyone was settled at the table, Booth asked how long Blaine and Natalie were staying in D.C.

"We're here til the end of the month," the petite doctor replied. "Blaine is presenting a paper to the International Society for Environmental Epidemiology this week. He and Dr. Rocca have an ongoing study on the rising rates of malaria in the East African highlands. Data has been collected since 1998. Its resurgence is a serious concern. Then we're heading to New York to visit my family before we return to Tanzania."

"Well, Bones, I think we need to invite these folks over for swimming and barbeque this weekend. Hank will love playing with Fuller and Christine can keep Maggie occupied with lots of fun. Give you and your husband a chance to relax a bit," he smiled at Natalie. "I daresay Micah here will surprise you with his endurance. This guy swims a mile every morning."

"That's really commendable, Dad!" Natalie complimented her father.

"FBI gym membership is a perk of the job, honey. I moonlight as a security guard at the Hoover a few times a month. Got bored sitting at home," Micah told her. "An afternoon with your family sounds wonderful, Agent Booth. Can't tell you how glad I am that you and Dr. Brennan finally got together!"

Brennan blushed, and patted her guardian angel's arm, as Booth called him. "I should've listened to those staticky signals much sooner, Micah; but at least I finally got the message."

**A/N: I found an intriguing article in **_**The Lancet**_** from 07 March 2009 which provided information about Tanzania's medical needs. As always, the internet was a treasure trove of facts about dinosaurs, disease research and Africa**.


	5. Chapter 5

Peyton

Having finished the last paragraph of her audit report, the Advisory Agent re-read the three-page document for accuracy, uploaded it for encryption, forwarded the file to the Baltimore supervisor, and closed down her computer. Assigned to audit the neighborhood interface practices utilized by the city police force, she had uncovered excellence, excesses, and excuses. Amazed and disgusted in turn by various individual officers she'd observed, Agent Hamilton had been especially impressed by the Special-Agent-in-Charge.

Gordon Johnson had come to Baltimore to head up the FBI office two years earlier during a very difficult period of unrest and turmoil. He would be retiring in six months after a stellar career in law enforcement. His oversight of the Gun Trace Task Force investigation had uncovered robbery and overtime fraud by corrupt police detectives, now convicted and incarcerated. Particularly concerned about ill-advised FBI interactions with minority communities, he had instigated strenuous reforms to improve the relationship.

He, in turn, had silently marveled at the young woman's investigative instincts and tact dealing with uncooperative disgruntled city employees pulled into the fracas. His phone call back to D.C. commended her efforts and skill. "She's a bloodhound cloaked in cocker spaniel cuteness and pleading Lassie eyes," Gordon had told Booth. Knowing that Johnson's wife was a dog show judge made interpreting the canine compliment much easier, he chuckled to himself. Allowing himself a few moments of pride, he agreed with Agent Johnson's commendation and wished the older man well as he concluded his exceptional service to the Bureau. _Peyton is definitely an exceptional agent,_ Booth thought.

Unaware that she was the subject of higher-ups' conversations, Peyton Perotta Hamilton slid her laptop into its case, picked up her purse, and headed to the stairwell. Extracting her phone, she tapped out a message to her sister.

"Hey Pren, getting an early start back. With any luck I should be back in DC by 6 pm. Can Steve and I treat you, Tommy, and Charlie to dinner at Los Cuates?"

After a two- year stint as senior agent at the FBI office in Minneapolis, Peyton had transferred back to DC and taken over Charlie Burns' Adams-Morgan loft apartment when he and Prentice bought their home in Bowie. Her nephew was four now, and his pre-school fall break gave the little family a good excuse to stay at Auntie Peyton's while she travelled to Minneapolis for a conference and an important long weekend. Taking a break from their normal Metro commute, Prentice and Charlie indulged Tommy's current fascination with airplanes, wandering through the National Air and Space Museum.

After years of claiming disinterest for marriage, Peyton Perotta was engaged. She had met Steven Hamilton, an SEC forensic accountant in Minneapolis who worked with her on an audit of FBI expense accounting records. Previously assigned by Booth to present and justify their division's quarterly budget to the bean counters, Peyton had successfully obtained approval for critical expenditures, much to her boss's delight. Intrigued by financial analysis, she had taken graduate courses at College Park's Robert H. Smith School of Business and become a liaison to the Financial Fraud Enforcement Task Force.

Working his way through Texas A&M, Steve Hamilton had joined the Corps of Cadets and studied both accounting and mathematics. His military science senior research paper had compared the potential atomic bomb target locations considered by President Truman. He served as a Marine Corps artillery officer for three years until a training accident injured his lower back. After a medical discharge, he applied to the SEC to utilize his business degree.

Peyton wasn't the first District resident Steve had encountered. He also knew Hunter Geren, Agent Genny Shaw's husband, from several collaborative multi-state investigations. The pair had both attended college on scholarships working campus jobs to make ends meet. Assigned to bunk together, they had hit it off during their NYC SEC Introductory Agent training. Steve's initial assignment had been Minnesota, while Hunter was sent to Baltimore and then to the nation's capital.

As their careers advanced, the two men kept in touch. Hunter completed GWU post-graduate accounting courses and earned his C.P.A. certification. Steve became a Minnesota Gopher to earn an M.S. in Business Analytics, but its intensive coursework and the demands of his job left no time for attending athletic events. Sent to Washington DC on SEC business from time to time, he was enchanted by Hunter's diminutive and spunky FBI spouse, whose name Genevieve was longer than she was.

Peyton and Steve shared a love of history, particularly World War II. He was amazed by her knowledge of Shuntaro Hida, the young Japanese army physician who treated Hiroshima victims of the 'Fat Man' atomic bomb. Due to Peyton's transfer back to Washington, their long-distance relationship continued to deepen. Steve stayed with Hunter and Shaw whenever he came to visit Peyton.

Following seventeen months of evaluating transfer possibilities for one of them, the couple's hopes were realized. Steve had just been tapped to revamp SEC new agent training, develop a continuing education program and expand the IT data analysis portion of its curriculum. Rising real estate prices and legislative cost-cutting pressure dictated relocation of federal training facilities from New York to Quantico, consolidating SEC, CIA, and FBI training academy resources. Never, he thought, had governmental budget cuts been so propitious for two people in love!

After months of waiting, they announced their engagement and during this Minneapolis reunion, the pair planned a small wedding. Their first choice was the Quantico base Marine Memorial Chapel, where Steve had spent considerable time trying to accept the bitter disappointment of his medical discharge. Peyton hoped that Steve's previous Marine service would be taken into consideration, since leaving the Corps was certainly not his choice. She was sure that Booth would put in an influential good word for them as well, since he taught FBI marksmanship classes at the base.  
If that didn't work out, they would be married at Washington Memorial Chapel in Valley Forge, PA. Particularly fond of Rev. James Dalton, the FBI chaplain who had counseled her and others after the shock of Heather Taffett's shooting, Peyton asked him to serve as their officiant. The pastor was touched by her request and very pleased to perform a happy clerical service for a change.

Fortunately, the Marine Corps chapel was available and approved for their use. Both sets of delighted parents arrived the evening before. Peyton was charmed by Eva Hamilton's slight drawl, and chuckled all through dinner at Tom Hamilton's dry sense of humor. Steve had already met the senior Perottas and relished seeing them again. Tony Perotta, a stocky former Army helicopter crew chief turned banker, warmed immediately to his son-in-law's parents and fell into easy conversation with Tom about the finer points of golf. Agnes was a shorter version of her daughters with a perpetual smile. She brought along ample batches of home-baked cookies for the rehearsal dinner dessert.

Prentice and Charlie Burns hosted a barbeque in their backyard after the brief practice and instructions were concluded at Quantico. Tommy was ready to burst with excitement over being the ring bearer. That was, until the next day, when a case of stage fright subdued the little boy considerably. Danny Shaw offered to walk down the aisle with Tommy and saved the day.

Genny Shaw watched her son's quiet rescue with pride and happiness. Hunter took her hand and squeeze it gently as he kissed the top of her head.

"That's a fine boy you've raised there, Genny Girl," he whispered. She swiped at her eyes and blinked hard as she kissed his cheek in return.

"You've helped a lot with that too, you know."

They held a small dinner reception in the airy glass-ceilinged atrium of the National Marine Corps Museum. The reasonably-priced steaks and cordon bleu chicken were cooked to perfection, and the museum exhibits sparked lively conversation among the two celebrating families and guests. Booth and Brennan shared a grin remembering the chili Peyton brought when he was buzzed on Vicodin during the Imagicon case and a slightly jealous Brennan 'fixed' his back more than once. When it came time for toasting, Booth stood up to remind Peyton of her aggravation being called 'Milady' repeatedly and told an amusing story of cardboard knights to his happy audience, omitting the crime and mucky body parts.

Steve wanted to let his bride experience how very different his childhood state was from Minneapolis, and proposed they honeymoon there. He hoped to show her Big Bend State Park where inky darkness showcased the stars, the historic charm of Galveston and San Antonio, and his beloved College Station. Exploring this broad swath of the "whole 'nother country" Texas called itself might prove to be too ambitious for their two weeks of vacation time, but he'd try. Searching Google flights, he was astounded to find $127 round-trip airfare on Frontier Airlines and purchased two tickets immediately for the 3.5 hr non-stop flights. How much better could life get?

At 5:30 am sharp, they flew out of Dulles Airport into Houston's Hobby Airport. At this early hour, the flight wasn't completely filled and they found an unoccupied seat between them. Apparently being newly-weds had great karma. Upon arrival, they rented a small manual-transmission Jeep Renegade SUV and drove to Galveston, where Peyton marveled at the stately mansions and town that survived a 1900 hurricane she had seen described on "Isaac's Storm".

Then heading northwest, Steve drove to College Station, regaling his bride with stories of standing through games at Kyle Field, the comradery of the Corps of Cadets, and the sad solemn majesty of Silver Taps. He kissed her soundly as they stood beneath the Century Tree where numerous Aggie couples become engaged.

They compared the tacos from Fuego Tortilla Grill and Mad Taco across the street from one another and found that their favorites were quite different. Heading west they drove to Austin, stopping to purchase some craft beer and share a Mexican Martini at Trudy's Texas Star and pausing a bit to walk off this unique margarita's effects.

Travelling an hour and a half due west through Texas Hill Country, admiring a sunny azure sky overhead and endless fields of bluebonnets along the road, they arrived in Fredericksburg where they were excited to visit the National Museum of the Pacific War. It includes the Admiral (Chester) Nimitz Museum in his grandfather's historic Nimitz Hotel.

The museum grounds happened to be open later than usual and they started walking through the outdoor military exhibits. It felt good to stretch their legs after being cooped up in the car long enough to cross Texas, but after fifteen minutes, they were too tired to continue. By 8:30 p.m. they walked across the street to the bed and breakfast Steve had found online. Its oversized whirlpool bathtub and oh-so-comfortable king-size bed felt perfect. Sinking into the Egyptian cotton sheets, they kissed each other and promptly fell fast asleep.

The next morning Steve utilized the thoughtfully well-stocked coffee bar to brew hazelnut coffee for Peyton who awakened to her favorite creamy caffeine scent. The newly-weds made good use of the luxurious bed and bubbly bathtub together. After an early breakfast of home-crafted German pastries, they returned to the three intriguing museums and spent several hours wandering through the informative displays, examining fascinating artifacts, and remembering the costs paid by those who fought in the Pacific under Nimitz's astute command.

Before leaving town, they returned to their lodging where they enjoyed freshly made Texas Buttermilk Coconut Pie with Whipped Cream, a local dessert served by Laura Bush in the White House. Peyton knew she would miss their charming hostess Elsa Schmidt and her captivating German accent. She had told them over breakfast that 'her' Hill Country was very presidential, since both Lyndon Baines Johnson and George W. Bush owned ranches in the area.

Elsa recommended a local winery where they bought a few bottles of wine for friends back in D.C. Loading them up with a lunch of deviled ham-egg salad sandwiches, apples, cookies, and bottled water 'just in case,' she noted that the wide open spaces 'out there' were sparsely populated, so "watch your gas gauge and keep that tank full!" Steve laughingly commented to Peyton as they pulled out of her driveway that neither Eva Hamilton nor Agnes Perotta could have mothered them any better.

Continuing west, they followed US-190 W and US-385 S through some arid scenery, stopping for lunch in Del Rio and passing through Langtry to see where Judge Roy Bean held court. The scenery became hillier the farther they drove. Hungrier than they ever expected to be, they devoured Elsa's thoughtful lunch along the way.

Steve had been fortunate to get a room at the Chisos Mountain Lodge inside the national park, and they were glad to arrive after their picturesque six-hour trip. They were still chuckling about the weather-beaten old Steelcase desk and fiberglass chair three resourceful Sul Ross State University students had drug up a hill near the college so they could study outside. For 30-odd years it has served as a quirky local landmark, occasionally replaced with a professor's cast-off. The university website even provides hiking directions to find it. A notebook in the desk drawer bears visitor names.

After a good night's sleep at the Mountain Lodge, Peyton and Steve laced up their hiking boots, pulled on backpacks filled with water and snacks and ventured out to see the closest nearby canyon, river, and hills. In order to explore the further reaches of Big Bend National Park, they drove along the Ross Maxwell Scenic Drive, and under the steep Rio Grande-carved limestone cliffs of Santa Elena Canyon. Peyton wished she could show Dr. Brennan the pictographs at Langford Hot Springs and took numerous pictures to show the scientist.

Steve found the cactus varieties fascinating, and marveled at their ability to live in such an arid environment. The distant mountains stood purple along the horizon, and the night skies were totally devoid of man-made light. Steve had brought two pairs of binoculars and took Peyton out for a night of star-gazing after seeking the lodge owner's advice on where to park their Jeep. A blanket spread on the hood allowed them to lean back against the windshield to name the constellations and hunt for the Milky Way. He had read that the park was rich in dinosaur bones and sea fossils, but it was hard to believe the area had ever been under water as dry as it was.

After three memorable days, the couple thanked the Chisos Mountain inn keeper and turned the Jeep east toward San Antonio where Steve had grown up. His parents welcomed them warmly, then left them to wander through the city. Tom had a business trip to Midland, and Eva was going along with him the next morning.

"You'll have the house to yourselves, kids. Enjoy everything and make yourselves at home," the senior Hamiltons urged before retiring for the night.

The Hamilton's guest room was spacious and comfortable with a king-size bed Steve didn't remember his parents having, but he and Peyton relished it in every way possible. He cooked her breakfast and she made her grandmother's chili for him in the well-appointed kitchen his mother had designed herself.

The Guadalupe River Walk, the Tower of the Americas, and Brackenridge Park filled two memorable days for the honeymooners. They enjoyed intriguing natural history artifacts at Witte Museum and decided to tour the Alamo and San Antonio Missions National Historical Park on their last day in the old Spanish city. The five missions gave evidence of how tough frontier life had been two centuries earlier, and the Alamo stood as mute testimony to what early Texans had suffered to establish their republic. Both devoted to government service, Steve and Peyton were deeply moved by the history they saw.

They enjoyed authentic Mexican food, which Steve assured his bride was _nothing _like what they were served at Los Cuates back home. Pumpkin empanadas turned out to be Peyton's new favorite pastry. She couldn't decide which she liked better; the German food they'd had in Fredericksburg or San Antonio's Latino cuisine.

After one last honeymoon marital romp and a thoroughly refreshing night's sleep, the couple drove past Fort Sam Houston and Lackland Air Force Base to San Antonio's International Airport, squeezed into their cramped sardine can seats and sighed. At least the non-stop flight would pass quickly. They'd had a wonderfully memorable wedding trip you couldn't expect life to go your way every day.

After a whirlwind seven days in Texas, Steve was very glad that Peyton had talked him into reserving their second week off for spending time at home together. They weren't expected back at work until the following Monday, and there was no need to let anyone but their immediate family know they were back in town just yet. A private stay-cation for just the two of them was a perfect way to end their honeymoon before the real work-a day world summoned them once again.

Back in the fourth floor Adams-Morgan loft, they showered together, indulged in every romantic pursuit and position they could think of, then tumbled back into bed amid their brand new pillows for a sound night sleep in each other's arms.


	6. Chapter 6

A Scholarship for Sam

Jack Hodgins made it a point to visit his brother at the Sandalwood Home at least once a month, but most of the time he managed to do so every other weekend. To his delight, Hodgins had learned that Jeffrey shared his love of French toast, especially the vanilla-nutmeg-cinnamon-allspice variety which Odalie had made throughout their respective childhoods.

His parents' talented Acadian cook had been with the family for nine years by the time Jack was born. Born near Bayou Lafourche, Odalie had an accent as thick as Mississippi Delta mud and butchered both French and English with her delightful Cajun expressions. She had come to visit her aunt Noelle the summer after high school and stayed on to help with cooking for the Hodgins' family. She had explained to both boys in turn that French toast wasn't French at all, but could be traced clear back to the Roman Empire. It was simply a tasty way to utilize stale bread for filling tummies at breakfast-time.

Hodgins made it a point to call the Sandalwood staff on Friday afternoon to see if Jeffrey was having a good week, cooperatively taking his medications. If he was lucid and calm, the pair would venture a few miles away to Lincoln' Waffle Shop to indulge in the warm syrupy goodness of their specialty French toast. It wasn't quite as delectable as Odalie's but tasty, nonetheless.

One Saturday morning when Angela had taken Michael Vincent for a week with Granpa Billy in Texas, Hodgins checked Jeffrey out of Sandalwood, helped him into the Mini and headed for the "no-frills neighborhood" waffle shop. They chuckled over the claim that in this very establishment, Lincoln had proclaimed breakfast the most important meal of the day while chowing down on his customary waffle order with bacon and scrambled eggs.

Waiting for their breakfast to arrive, Jeffrey surprised his brother with an unusual request. His favorite night orderly Sam was worried about financing his son's college education and Jeffrey wanted to help. Recalling that their parents had been well-to-do, he asked Jack how he might provide some funding for Sam, Jr.

Hodgins was charmed by his brother's concern and amazed at his lengthy lucid conversation. If Jeffrey's idea had come up when he was struggling to pay the Sandalwood bills after Christopher Pelant's digital thievery, things would have been disappointingly different. But once his unbreakable beaker had been patented and put into production, Angela's and his money problems had evaporated.

Aware that the Cullens had established an art scholarship fund in Amy's memory, Hodgins was certain he could enlist their attorney's aid to realize Jeffrey's wish. He briefly explained the process and watched a smile spread across his older brother's face.

"That'll make Sam feel good, and stop worryin', Jack. If you could set that up, it'd help a lot. Thanks!"

As the pair finished up their breakfast, Jeffrey proudly reached into his pocket and pulled out two dollar bills.

"I'm leavin' the tip this week, Jack. Can we go back to Sandalwood now? I want to finish watching a Discovery program and read some more in my book about the Manhattan Project. It's due at the library on Monday."

"Sure thing, Jeffrey. Lemme pay the bill and we'll head back there right now. It might take a few weeks to get your scholarship idea set up, but I bet we can complete the paperwork in time for Sam, Jr.'s graduation from Grant High School next month. That will please his dad no end, don't you think?"

"Yup, Jack, I think it will! It'll be quite a surprise. Thank you for helpin' me out on this!"

A few weeks later, on a warm humid May evening, the Hodgins brothers sat in the US Grant auditorium with Sam Holcomb, Jr.'s family to witness the traditional passage of 223 eighteen-year-olds into the 'tadpole phase' of early adulthood. They invited the proud parents and son out to dinner and Jeffrey handed young Sam a crisp ivory vellum envelope.

Puzzled, the boy opened the flap and unfolded the paper within. His eyes grew wide and he gasped his thanks to the elder Hodgins. His father looked at Jeffrey as Sam Jr. handed him the letter. The man's eyes grew misty as he read its contents.

"I don't know what to say, Mr. Jeff. You didn't have to do this, but thank you so much!"

"Sam, you take such good care of us, and listen patiently when I can't sleep. I count you as not only a care-giver, but my friend. It's my pleasure to help a little with Sam's education."

"A little? This is more than a little! But Twyla and I sure appreciate the assistance more than we can say!"

Sam, Jr. reached out and grasped Jeffrey's hand, shaking it firmly. "Sir, I can assure you I will study assiduously to deserve your investment and belief in me. I appreciate your help so very much!"

On the way back to Sandalwood after their meal, Jack Hodgins pulled over to the curb before entering the Home's campus. He leaned over and hugged his brother.

"Jeffrey, I'm deeply impressed by your inspiration and generosity. Mom and Dad would be so proud of you!"

"Thanks, Jack. That means a lot," his brother replied quietly.


	7. Chapter 7

Danny

**A/N: Frustrated by weeks this summer with no time to write, I'm determined to finish the final two characters on the 2019 Summer Challenge list. I've made a few assumptions about what federal agents are permitted to do in their personal lives because my research on the matter didn't yield any results. **

Booth exited the elevator before the doors were completely open, strode down the hall to the coffee room, and filled his favorite mug with the stout brew which was only tolerable first thing in the morning before constant reheating in the over-sized Bunn machine which kept FBI agents alert and functioning through long days and nights. His first sip of the dark bitter liquid still elicited a slight shudder.

He covered the short distance to his office and pivoted left to enter by rote while perusing a case file.

"G'morning, Booth!"

The senior agent jerked his head up, startled by an unexpected visitor's greeting.

Danny Beck rose from the chair in front of Booth's desk as he spoke.

"Sheesh, Danny! What the h- are you doing in my office at 6:58 am?"

"I have a task force meeting upstairs this morning, Booth. Since I had to come to the Hoover anyway, I thought I'd stop by and see if you're holding down the fort around here. Even brought you a bear claw from District Donuts; the only place around here with decent breakfast pastries!"

Danny thrust a white paper sack toward Booth.

"I got that apple-cinnamon kind you brought me after Sari was found," he said. "I have an important question to ask you, Seel."

Surprised by his friend's comments, Booth peered into the pastry bag and sat down at his desk.

"Well, take a load off, and ask away," he said, biting into the sugary treat. "Mmmm, this is really good. Bones has been monitoring my diet; first sweet thing I've had all week!"

Danny resumed his seat and munched a moment on his own bear claw, then wiped his mouth with a brown paper napkin and spoke up.

"Remember how hard I fell for Sari? I've dated some since her death, but no one has even come close to meeting the mark until now…"

Booth stared at his CIA counterpart. This personal revelation was out of character for the Danny he knew.

"Sounds like you're involved with someone," he prompted.

"Yeah, you might say that. We're getting married next month if our work schedules don't skew our plans again, and I'd like you to be my best man, Booth."

"Huh?"

"Caught you off guard, I guess. Been seeing each other about four months. We haven't told a lot of people yet, but the higher-ups can't find any reasons or regulations that say we can't be together. So, God willin' and the creeks don't rise, I'm finally gonna be a married man."

"Age-wise, it took me a while, but our relationship moved way faster than that glacially-slow 'just partners' façade you and Brennan maintained for years," Danny smirked at his friend.

"So who's the mystery woman, for Pete's sake? Way to drag a story out, man!"

"Okay, but you gotta promise not to get sore. She wasn't exactly your favorite person, or Brennan's for that matter, a while back."

"Fine, fine, I'll let bygones be bygones! Spill, Danny, or I swear I'll boot you out of my office. I've gotta prepare for a budget meeting and a court hearing this afternoon! I didn't come to work early for grins, y'know!"

"I get it, Booth. I'll give you the Reader's Digest version. Remember that thug Masborian your poor brother got in over his head with? And the undercover list Richard Bannerman had? That two-timing Dr. Benjamin Metzger was tracking him? And all the work Dr. Brennan and her team did to save your scrawny a-"

"Beck, don't remind me. I lost my brother, and nearly bought the farm myself. Biggest mistake of my life was not telling Bones where I was going! How is this horrid long-winded tale leading to anything good?"

"Because over the last year and a half, I was assigned to work several investigations with the FBI agent assigned to dig into that case, Booth," Danny said quietly.

"Oh, lord, please don't tell me you're dating FBI Internal Investigations Agent Miller, you lunatic," Booth gasped.

"Hey, she was just doing her job, and she's nothing if not thorough. Not that she wasn't a little biased by her previous ties to Bannerman—"

"A _little_ biased? Are you kidding me? Bones and Aubrey said she acted like I was Public Enemy #1!"

"Booth, she felt really bad about all that. But she wasn't the traitorous perpetrator, Metzger was!"

"Enough, already! I've gotta get to work! So you're telling me you and Grace Miller are a thing?"

"Long story short, Booth, we were assigned to execute several joint investigations recently. Stuff I can't talk about, but I know how much you hate people who compromise any of our agencies when they're supposed to be loyal federal employees!"

"I was really turned off and reluctant at first," Danny continued. "But Grace is a good egg, smart as a whip, and as dedicated to unearthing the truth as you and Dr. Brennan are, Booth! We didn't start out to get involved but one thing led to another; too many late nights poring over files, looking for clues, sitting on stake-outs, you know the drill…"

"Yeah, I get it, Danny. She got under your skin and into your heart," Booth said.

"Yup, exactly. After Sari, I didn't think I'd ever find anyone as great as her, someone who I cared about enough to let her in! But I did, and she was, and here we are."

"As my Pops used to say, 'the heart wants what it wants' right?" Booth chuckled softly.

"Your grandfather was certainly right. So we're hoping to get hitched May 23rd, just a small ceremony. Neither of us have big families. But it would mean a lot if you'd stand up with me, Booth. I haven't forgotten the slack you cut me when you found out about Sari; you're as close to a brother, a good friend, as I have. Being in the CIA doesn't lend itself to close personal relationships with other guys, ya know?"

"No kidding. Aubrey's the only agent around here I'd trust with anything personal. And you guys work even more solitarily than we do," Booth agreed.

"And sure, I'll be your best man, Danny. I'd be honored."

"Thanks, Booth. I'll get out of your hair now. If I don't get my butt upstairs, they'll hang me out to dry for being late to this meeting with Directors Hettinger and Stanton."

Booth looked at his friend questioningly, then shook his head. "I know, I know, you can't talk about it. Congratulations, Danny, I'm glad you've found someone who makes you happy. Hopefully as happy a Bones has made me. Boy, is she gonna give you an earful when she hears about Agent Miller!"

"Well, let's try to have dinner this weekend, Booth. Our women are very much alike."

"Don't tell Bones that! And just so you know, she was _well_ worth waiting for all that time it took me to gain her trust."

"I know, Temperance is one of a kind. Grace is special, too. I appreciate it, man. I'll call you later this week, okay?"

"Sounds good. And thanks for asking me. You're right, we don't have many close friends in this business, not nearly enough. Take care of yourself and Grace, Danny."


	8. Chapter 8

Cullen

**A/N: Very belatedly, this is the last chapter of my summer challenge story. Embarrassingly, just in time for Halloween, so it's doubling as a slightly spooky holiday tale.**

Having filled his favorite coffee mug from Brennan's most recent birthday gift, Booth flipped the switch to awaken his computer and check emails before a Monday morning huddle with his agents. His wife had purchased a Keurig for his office credenza and kept it stocked with his favorite Folgers pods. She tried to interest him in the kopi luwak she liked, but Booth stuck with the same brew Pops had first introduced him to one early morning when Grams' hot cocoa no longer stirred him awake for his teen-age Philly paper route.

Skimming through routine FBI inter-office memos, the senior agent spotted a sender's name that surprised him. He hadn't received an email from Sam Cullen since his boss's retirement several years earlier. The two men crossed paths and had lunch occasionally, but email wasn't really Sam's style. Reading the message, Booth grinned to himself. This invitation was really Julia Cullen's doing. Sam's wife was an accomplished technical writer for Hewlett-Packard, served on the Alexandria Library Trust board of directors, and was far more IT-savvy than her distinguished husband. Sam Cullen would have just picked up the phone.

Booth and Brennan were invited to an annual Halloween Scare-A-Thon Carnival which helped fund the Cullen's charity. Sam had gotten the idea from the small carnival Booth had once quietly stages for pediatric patients being treated for neuroblastoma at GWU Hospital, which was now an annual event. Patrons sponsored booths each year, volunteered ahead of and during the event, and even donned costumes to interact with the District children who came without fail, dragging their parents to this popular D.C. 'spook-tacular' happening.

After Amy's untimely death from a cancer-riddled bone graft, her heart-broken parents had turned their grief into resounding good, by establishing an art scholarship foundation in her memory. _Amy's Art-Reach_ provided a yearly six-week summer stipend for a student to visit and study at the Louvre. The candidates were chosen from among students at four D.C. area universities which excelled in art education: George Washington, Howard, Gallaudet, and UMd-College Park. Recalling the virtual Louvre tour Angela Montenegro had provided for their daughter, the Cullens had asked her to serve on their selection committee each year. Sam and Julia had specifically chosen four diverse local institutions to serve the broadest possible pool of art students, including a private, an historically-black, a deaf, and a public university in its spectrum.

Booth's annual contribution was staggering around the carnival site wearing the mask he'd once used to surprise Brennan while lying on a gurney covered with a sheet. He'd step out from behind a stack of hay bales, amid guttural moans which startled the costumed children nearby. Brennan reprised her gelatin eyeballs and brains from Christine's class Halloween party, while Hank and Christine delighted in helping in the game gallery. Even Parker got into the act as an amateur ventriloquist when he was in town.

The Scare-A-Thon raised an impressive amount of money each year. Besides the Louvre stipend, _Amy's Art-Reach _gave six one-year scholarships to local junior college fine arts students, and sponsored a high school art contest to select the recipients. Angela helped judge the blind submissions each year, along with a panel of community art teachers. There were creative writing and visual arts categories, so that three winning students in each discipline received $2,000 tuition assistance per year.

Since Amy had been an aficionado of Disney's animated movies, most especially _The Little Mermaid_, Julia included a Disney Princess Parade in the Scare-A-Thon's events. Children were invited to dress up as a hero, heroine, princess, or other Disney character. Naturally no costumed kiddo was turned away and the little merry-makers received bags of raisins, gum and candy at the parade's endpoint. Most popular were the bean bag toss and miniature train which wound its way through the festive carnival site.

Sam had acted in amateur theater productions whenever time in college or his career permitted, and enjoyed reading Dickens' _A Christmas Carol_ to Sunday School children for years, so he manned a booth reading spooky stories aloud to children and parents. _Little Orphan Annie_, _Goofy's Halloween Adventure_, The Berenstain Bears, Mercer Mayer's Little Critter, and other kid-friendly tales were part of his repertoire. The variety of voices he could impersonate surprised his listeners each year.

The Scare-A-Thon was held in the parking lot of the Alexandria Public Library, side-stepping the need for rental fees, and the high schooler library aides volunteered for service hours as well, further increasing the money raised for scholarships. If interested in pursuing a fine arts degree, the aides were given priority for one of the six annual community college academic awards. In the five years since Amy's death, four student library aides had earned these foundation tuitions stipends.

Years of financial wrangling to finagle vitally necessary expenditures out of lean conservative budgets at their respective employers had taught both Sam and Julia how to squeeze, stretch and shoe-spoon their money's worth within their Foundation's funding constraints to assist as many promising artistic scholars as possible. As a result, _Amy's Art-Reach_ was consistently well-rated by Charity Navigator for responsible financial stewardship each year. Its popularity as a worthy cause rose each year among the District's bureaucrats and politicians, consistently increasing contributions to the pool of money the Cullens could award.

When Booth arrived at the Lab to pull Brennan away for lunch, the first thing she mentioned to him was the email Julia had sent her that morning. Knowing the scientist's many charitable endeavors, Mrs. Cullen was requesting her help evaluating several new scholarship ideas and selecting a new avenue for encouraging their recipients' academic excellence. Brennan's active brain was already brimming with thoughts and reactions, which burbled out like an exuberant fountain of words. Booth grinned with pride at his wife's interest and dedication to helping students pursue their education. Having experienced privation herself to get through Northwestern University, Temperance Brennan was keen to facilitate and smooth others' quest for knowledge.

Pouring their efforts into making college possible for youngsters as interested in art as their Amy had been eased the ever-present ache of grief which Sam and Julia could never quite escape. The future without her would never be the same, but their Foundation gave time some meaning for them again. Booth had watched his vigorous boss recapture some of his spark and spirit as _Amy's Art-Reach_ blossomed into reality.

Angela had no idea what that virtual Louvre tour she created for Amy in a hospital room would inspire, but she was one of the Foundation's most avid spokespersons in public service radio ads broadcast along the Eastern seaboard. Three years after its inception, Amy's Art-Reach won its first Exceptional rating from Charity Navigator, and thereafter maintained that standing consistently. Brennan still didn't believe in an afterlife, yet a tiny part of her brain smiled at the idea of Amy Cullen's proud approval of her parents' earnest efforts somewhere in the Universe.


End file.
